


white as snow

by flightofwonder



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/F, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightofwonder/pseuds/flightofwonder
Summary: No.Quỳnh couldn’t tell if she spoke it or screamed it, but as soon as it was out of her mouth, she was on the move. Her blood pushed her to move faster, faster, but the ice was breaking apart quickly now, so Quỳnh had to be careful, precise, moving on her hands and knees to the hole her friend had disappeared into.Andromache didn’t emerge.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	white as snow

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober Prompt #21: Hypothermia.
> 
> As for all of whumptober, please mind the tags.

“Battles, always the battles with you,” Quỳnh shouted from atop her stallion. “Will you turn to stone if you stay still too long?”

“I’m not eager to find out,” Andromache mused, furs covering her collar and the lower half of her face. The snow fell on them both softly but steadily, and potentially deadly. If too much snow accumulated, the ice on the great lake might shatter. And an entire caravan would be lost to the frozen tundra.

Quỳnh could see them from the hilltop they traveled on, triangles of grey and muted colors situated by the edge of the frozen lake. From this distance, she could see movement, but not details. It didn’t matter. She knew they were going to try and cross the lake.

“Then we move,” Quỳnh insisted, wrapping her own furs tighter. “We help them, we earn a fee, we move on. Is that not what we’re traveling west to do?”

“We don’t do that kind of work,” said Andromache, as if she were the authority on such matters, and Quỳnh felt indignity buck inside her chest like a wild horse.

“You speak it, so that makes it so?” Quỳnh said, dangerously calm.

“I was revered as a goddess, and not that long ago,” said Andromache cryptically, with something far away in her smile.

“Yes, and you couldn’t have been worshiped for your _charming_ personality.” She spoke the second to last word in her native tongue. Andromache the Scythian had not mastered it yet.

Something glinted in the other woman’s eyes, too light to be a challenge, but too sharp to be just amusement. Quỳnh rather liked the look of it.

Instead of admitting as much, she dug her heel into her steed’s side and urged him ahead. She was still angry at her, she had to remember. And she had good reason. More than that, though, she had work to do.

But Andromache caught up quickly and refused to let the notion go.

“They aren't my people. I no longer have a people.”

“But there are still _people_ ,” Quỳnh insisted.

“Would you be so gracious to _your_ people? After they abandoned you?”

Quỳnh’s throat grew tight, but she refused to rise to the bait, instead wrapping the harness around her wrist tighter and turning her stallion to cut off Andromache’s mare’s path.

“I have done what you asked,” said Quỳnh, voice quiet and controlled. “I have followed you into every battle. But you won’t follow me because… why? The task is menial?”

“Because it’s pointless,” Andromache shook her head. Quỳnh knew she did not say it to be cruel, but that only lit the flame in her belly higher. “Maybe they cross before the thaw. Maybe that earns some of them ten years. Others, ten days.”

“Then each of those days count,” Quỳnh insisted, but Andromache sighed.

“They die in the blink of our eye all the same. I have lived a thousand years, and now, so will you. And the lives of humans are small.”

Quỳnh was quiet for a long while. Most wouldn’t tell from the look on her blank face, but her white-knuckled grip betrayed her inner fury.

“You’ve been worshiped too long. You’ve forgotten that you are not a god. These are not your decisions to make.” Quỳnh whispered, and that seemed to finally get through to the stupid woman as she looked up, started. “You’ve forgotten that there are lives worth living beyond your own. Their lives may be short, but they are not _small_.”

Andromache was stunned, and wasn’t that a sight? But Quỳnh recognized the imperceptive shift of when she steeled herself. “We will go west –”

“Don’t mistake me for one of your disciples,” Quỳnh snapped. “I will not bow to you, Andromache the Scythian.”

Their eyes locked, and whatever was between them was so thick, Quỳnh could have shot an arrow through it. And neither of them relented. Perhaps Andromache did turn to stone, like the tale she had shared with her from distant lands.

Quỳnh threw her bag of rations to the other woman, then pointed her steed in the opposite direction.

“Go west if you wish. I am helping the caravan cross the lake before it thaws.”

* * *

Quỳnh didn’t bother masking how pleased she was when she saw Andromache bringing up the rear of the caravan. She was so steady and quiet, one of the children thought she was a specter. Andromache did not smile until Quỳnh told her about it.

Traveling the ice meant traveling with no fresh meat or hope of a campfire until they reached the other side, so all of them had to eat sparingly, and sleep even less. Quỳnh scouted ahead, eyes sharp as a hawk even in the moonlight, and Andromache tailed the end of the caravan, helping them carry the supplies that couldn’t fit on their carts. Those winter nights were endless and damn near hopeless, but they were moving. Sometimes, that was all that could be said.

Finally, one bleary morning, Quỳnh returned with good news: land was only a few miles off. And not a minute too soon. The snow was relentless, piling higher and higher onto the ice, and Quỳnh had to purposefully not think about every snap or crack the wind brought to her ears.

She led a few men ahead on their horses who would start a fire and set up camp, then rounded back onto the ice to help the stragglers. By the time the last cart at rolled onto land, there were still people walking on the ice: older folk and children, being led by the hand by patient others. Quỳnh broke into a wide smile when she saw a dark-skinned boy clutching Andromache’s hand.

It was too risky to bring the horses back onto the ice at this point, so Quỳnh walked on feet that did not betray how unsteady she felt, helping an elderly couple reach the store. Her concentration snapped at an almost thunderous crack, then a high scream, and she reached for her bow immediately.

But instead of finding an enemy, she saw the same boy who was with Andromache being thrown into the air and towards the banks, and the wail of his mother as she gathered him off the ice distracted Quỳnh for too long. By the time she looked back, an axe was painted solitary black against the white snow, and Andromache was nowhere to be found.

_No._ Quỳnh couldn’t tell if she spoke it or screamed it, but as soon as it was out of her mouth, she was on the move. Her blood pushed her to move faster, _faster_ , but the ice was breaking apart quickly now, so Quỳnh had to be careful, precise, moving on her hands and knees to the hole her friend had disappeared into.

Andromache didn’t emerge.

Quỳnh dove her hands into the icy abyss, once, twice, coming up empty. She took the wayward axe and broke the ice apart before reaching again in another spot, and here, her hands met with something solid. The other woman was a dead weight as Quỳnh pulled her out of her wintery grave.

_“You will be fine, you son of a bitch,”_ Quỳnh hissed in her language, lugging the body with all of her might. She had to balance strength with finesse as she dragged the other woman, an attempt to keep the ice from breaking under them. A wild spirit overtook her, and she refused to stop moving for anything, thinking _Andromache_ , _Andromache_ , as if that word alone meant Quỳnh would keep them from a freezing end.

Time started moving very quickly all at once. There were others hoisting her up, and she winced as tender pieces of her palm broke off with the ice that had formed between where her hands clutched Andromache’s arms. She was loaded with furs and ushered into a tent, but she must have said something, because she quickly found herself in another tent where Andromache lay under furs, still as stone.

Quỳnh sent the others away, and she told herself this was because she didn’t want to deal with the mess if Andromache was actually dead and had to defrost to come to life. Quỳnh had yet to die by freezing, but she didn’t think the fact that Andromache wasn’t shaking was a good sign, so she stripped out of her wet things and crawled under the furs with the other woman.

Her skin was cold to the touch, but instead of retreating, Quỳnh met it like a challenge, rubbing her hands quickly on the frosty expanse of skin. She had no idea if it was helping, her hands a mess of nerves, but as their legs intertwined, Andromache’s limbs stopped feeling like blocks of ice.

Quỳnh cursed her out in every language she knew until she felt a soft rattle from underneath her. It took her a moment to recognize it as a chuckle.

“You’re ne-never ha-happy with me,” Andromache whispered, her words turning into a mist where they emerged from her mouth.

“Hush,” said Quỳnh, her relief softening her tone. “Rest now, you stupid deity.”

Under her hands, Andromache transformed from stone to flesh and bone once again, and Quỳnh felt the urge to be shy at the reminder. Instead, she clutched even tighter, pressing Andromache’s face under her chin. She kept shaking for a while after and Quỳnh held her through it. When she stilled enough to drift off to sleep, skin warm and whole, Quỳnh knew that she would be alright.

But it was comfortable under the furs, and it was easier to hear Andromache’s heartbeat when she lay against her chest like this. So Quỳnh decided to stay. Besides, it was best to be sure that she was warm enough.


End file.
